


Prodigal sons

by notvega



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Character Study, Corrival Deuce contemplating his sons, F/M, M/M, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 10:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvega/pseuds/notvega
Summary: It was irrational, he thinks, to expect otherwise. But he did, blinded by hope and faith, he really did think that after the war they would all be fine.





	Prodigal sons

It was irrational, Corrival Deuce thinks, to expect otherwise. But he did, blinded by hope and faith, he really did think that after the war they would all be fine. 

The closest to fine, he thinks, is Anton. Maybe. Maybe he’s just the most active of them all, taking charge of his own life just the same way he had taken charge of units on the battlefield. He removes, methodically and systematically, all things from his life that do not suit his wishes. Borders, laws, distractions. The Midnight Hotel, against all odds, is successful. It has a purpose, to help outcasts, who Anton can surely relate to. He’s heard he found a partner too, and he’s happy, hoping that at some point, Anton will think to introduce them. He never does, not before Corrival dies, but he would have, and that’s what really matters after all.

Ghastly tries, tries so hard. His shop, in his father’s tradition, is a marvel and Corrival goes there, semi-regularly, to check in, but he doesn’t have to lie about wanting to buy clothes because where else would he get them that would possibly be better? Every other year, Ghastly in another burst of will to finally get it together, signs up to clubs and activities to make him talk to people that aren’t old comrades, to fit into some idea of a good, healthy life. It never quite works out that way, it’s too hard to deal with the looks and his energy always runs out. He finds it easier usually, to be by himself, running until he drops by the roadside because his joints are burning, punching a bag until it splits and spills sand all over the floor that will take him days to clean up. 

Skulduggery does what he’s always done best: solve mysteries and shoot guns. Corrival can’t help but feel he does it to prove something, to the world and to himself. That he is more than anger, that there is some rhyme and reason to his still being alive. He lightens up, in a way, but it’s a bitter, cynical type of humour and it worries Corrival more than it comforts him. He’s buried in his work and he’s not sure he exists without it, until the Cain girl comes into the picture. Corrival isn’t given a lot of time to see them together, he doesn’t fully understand, but he knows with all his heart that this is the second chance Skulduggery never thought he would have, and he’s glad. 

Dexter drifts from cause to cause, chasing monsters and bad guys and saving damsels and Corrival would be glad if he thought his heart was in it. But his heart never seems to be in anything for more than some months. Girls pass by his side, but they never seem to stick, and Corrival isn’t surprised, because Dexter can’t commit to someone who understands so little of how he became himself, and the girls deserve better than someone who doesn’t have the first clue how to open himself up to them. 

Saracen drifts, too, but differently because unlike Dexter, he’s not looking for cause or purpose. Corrival thinks he gave up on that long ago. He’s harsher, angrier beneath his easy smiles and rogueish charm, and the comparison with a wolf becomes more and more apt with the years. He’s looking for sensation, for clashes and conflicts and risk, and he finds them in bar fights, in drugs, in loves that are bound to crash and burn. He gives his heart willingly, knowing he’ll get hurt and not caring one bit. Corrival doesn’t know, isn’t sure he could know, what makes him do it, but sometimes he guesses it’s to do with his gift. One day, he’ll take on an enemy too cunning even for him, and Corrival doesn’t think he cares that there’ll be no one there to save him. He wishes he had seen him once, before his death, his most prodigal son, but that luxury is, of course, denied.

Erskine is the last that remains, the closest to him after the war, and yet, he doesn’t think he knows him half as well as the others. The man is a chameleon, lost boy one day, charming salesman, skirtchaser, drunkard, statesman the next. And sometimes, he looks so angry Corrival is scared to approach him, but it always melts away into that brilliant smile that would make anyone give him what he wants. He doesn’t understand him properly, but he is grateful for his company, always grateful because he knows very well that without it, he too might lose his grip on things. Adventurous and unsteady as he is, Ravel keeps him sane and he loves him like a son. Someday, just like any father, he’ll have to let him go, to chase his own dreams. He hopes it will be long, and when he realises what the dream turns out to be, he wishes it had been never.

**Author's Note:**

> Faceclaims if you'd care for them:  
> Jim Broadbent as Corrival Deuce  
> Godfrey Gao as Anton Shudder  
> Tom Hardy as Ghastly Bespoke  
> Colin O'Donoghue as Skuldugger Pleasant  
> Theo James as Dexter Vex  
> Misha Collins as Saracen Rue  
> Nikolaj Coster Waldau as Erskine Ravel


End file.
